'You're wrong. I made a mistake on the leaving do. I kissed her.'
'What happened?'
'She looked so shocked. I told her I'd made a mistake. Then I left.'
'Oh my God, Tyler. I could hit you again.’
I flinch back to protect my ears.
‘Of course she'd look shocked. You finally noticed her in a romantic way. She'll have been stunned. Then you ran off. And repeat that again, you said it was a mistake?'
'Er.'
I’m off guard and she thwacks my other ear.
‘Jesus, Mother. I’m ringing Child Services.’
She raises her voice, 'So now she's gone. Well done son. Well done.'
I scratch my head. What do I do now? I remember the IOU. She agreed to meet me on the thirty-first of March.
'All might not be lost, Mum,' I say.
‘Really? Are you going to try to get your girl?’
‘Yes, Mummy.’ I pat her head and walk out of the room. She scowls at me but I can see her underlying smile.
I have ten days until the thirty-first. Ten days to secure a property and get it cleaned up. Then I will text the address to my friend to gather her for the results of our YouTube battle. I hope the thought of her victory is enough to get Lindsay round, as the twenty pounds up for grabs doesn’t seem much of an enticement anymore. Maybe there needs to be a better prize to win too?
On Monday, I ask if I can take the rest of the week off as annual leave. Donna says she's been trying to make me take them before the month end anyway. She looks at my entitlement and says she doesn't want to see me again until April the 1st. I have ten days off. Tuesday morning I look at properties to rent. By Friday morning, my deposit is paid and I'm packing to move. My belongings are few but my new place is smart and furnished, so Dylan agrees to help me move over the weekend.
My mother cries as I leave and invites me for Sunday dinner, even though it will only be my second day in my new place. She gives me four carrier bags full of food for my fridge and freezer.
My Dad hugs me and whispers for me to give her some time to get used to me being independent. I have to laugh at the irony.
By Monday, the place is looking shipshape. I get out my phone and send a text.
Reminder. I'm using the IOU. Thursday 31 March Eight pm. YouTube Wars.
I add my new address to the text.
Because I cheated and paid for an advert, I'm up to four hundred followers, so I'm quietly confident I'll have beaten the hamster.
I therefore add:
As well as the twenty pounds I will bet you a walk down the street in your undies for the loser. Terms and conditions: you have to pass at least three other houses.
I hear nothing for over an hour and go into a sulk. Then there’s a beep.
I accept the extra bet. Eight pm it is. I hope it's cold. Am I getting fed as the original IOU was I would get you food? Shall I bring a takeaway?
I text back
No. I’ll cook. Might as well give my oven a workout.
I take a deep breath as nerves kick in. I'd better try to get a few more followers between now and Thursday night. She sounded confident.
Chapter Nine
After a mild winter where we were wearing tee shirts in November, on the afternoon of the thirty-first of March it snows. Snow in Britain is of course unlike the snow anywhere else in the world. Even a centimetre of the stuff can bring the whole of the UK to a halt. Luckily the Council gritters had been out the evening before. Right now the roads, being busy with traffic, were staying pretty clear. My new road, however, being a small one with not much through traffic was steadily rising with the white stuff.
I check my phone throughout the afternoon, waiting for the text from Lindsay to say she can't make it because of the weather but it never arrives. At seven pm I prepare the food. A simple dinner of veggie burgers with pre-prepared vegetables. I’d chosen to stay safe.
At five minutes to eight, there's a knock on the door.
I give myself a once-over in the mirror. Yep, hair looking good. Clothes fitting the body nicely these days.
As I open the door, I find a strangely wrapped shape outside. Closer inspection reveals a body in a padded jacket. There are several scarves wrapped around the neck and face, apart from a teeny eye slit which is covered with ski goggles. The package is complete with a large woolly hat, gloves, wellingtons and a hiking stick.
A muffled sound comes from within the shape, 'Let me in then.'
The shape I presume to be Lindsay barges past me and walks through my house shedding clothes like wrappers in a game of pass the parcel.
'Christ, I'm roasting hot now,' she moans, dripping water all over the floors.
I pick her stuff up and hang it over the radiators. Getting a mop I clean up the drips off the floor.
'Fucking hell. You've turned into Martha Stewart.'
I pass her a glass of wine. 'Dinner will be in ten. Would you like a guided tour around my new abode as I know the suspense will be killing you?'
'I thought you'd never ask.'
I quickly show her around the place, skimming the peek into my bedroom. Even though she spent time in the one in my Mum's house it feels weird now I’ve kissed her. My gaming equipment is downstairs so it’s now a place solely for sleep and shenanigans. Or sleep only, because there have been no shenanigans in the last few days. I've been too tired for even a touch of hand solo (yes that’s a masturbating Star Wars reference. I’m a nerd, get over it.)
'It's really nice, Tyler. I'm proud of you. How's your mum taking it?'
'She calls me at six every evening. My Dad's told her she can only do that this first week, and then she's rationed to once a week calls.
She laughs. It lights up her face. I realise I enjoy making her smile.
We eat and I ask her about work. She says she’s settling in well, although it’s early days. The conversation appears a little awkward though and there are silences that I don't find comfortable. Boringly, I end up talking about the snow.
'I wasn't sure you'd make it.'
'Oh, I have snow chains. Also, I packed an overnight bag. You're not going to throw me out on the street if I can't get home, are you?'
'Of course not.'
‘Wasn’t missing out on you making me dinner. It’s a miracle.’
I look out of the window and see that the snow has stopped falling. Fucking stupid snow. Please come down thickly, I pray, so she has to stay the night.
I clear away the dishes. Lindsay insists on helping me so I wash the pots and she dries. I can't believe I never noticed what was in front of me the whole time. But I blew it. I know I did. The minute I said it was a mistake and I saw her reaction.
'So,' says Lindsay putting down the tea towel. 'Let’s check out the net and see who's won the competition.'
We toss a coin to see who looks first. It lands on tails which I chose so I put up my page.
'Four hundred and twenty-eight followers. Not bad.' Lindsay smiles.
She turns the computer towards her, clicks the keys and turns it back to me.
'Four hundred and sixty-three thousand followers? Are you kidding me? For a hamster?'
'My hamster is the main star of the show, but you helped get me a few views.' She presses the play button on a video. I watch as I fall over the religious sign.
'Hey. What? I thought you erased that?'
'I did. After I uploaded it to my channel.'
'That's cheating.'
'You didn't specify what we had to put on our channels. Only that we had to have one. I won, so get your clothes off.'
My eyes widen. 'Pardon?'
'Underwear walk. Outside. At least three houses down. Get to it, Ty. Loser.' She makes the L shape with her fingers in front of her face.
'Fine.'
She's giggling as I strip down to my underwear. I open the front door. 'Fucking hell, it's so cold. The snow has started falling again.'
'You'd better hurry up then hadn’t you?'
I run outside and jog past the neighbours. I go five houses past for good measure. Then, as I see no-one is watching me, I gallop back like a horse. Lindsay is dying with laughter. She's also in the doorway dry as a bone. I grab some snow off a neighbour’s window-ledge.
'Don't you fucking dare, Tyler Turner.'
Splat.
The snowball hits her firmly on the top of her head. It breaks up and runs down her face. She closes the door on me and for a minute I think she's locking me outside in the cold. Then the door opens and she reappears in her wellies.
‘Prepare to die.’
She launches a complete missile attack. I can't keep up with how quickly she makes the snowballs. I'm trying to get past her, to get back into the house, but every time I get near I'm pelted with another one. There’s no other choice but to ambush her because my balls are freezing off.
I slam into her, my weight knocking her backwards into a soft pile of snow that had drifted with the wind.
'Ooof.'
I grab a pile of snow and stuff it down the neck of her jumper.
'Stop it,' she squeals. 'Oh my God, that is so cold. Get off me.'
I have her wrists in my hands and she shakes them trying to get free. I'm positioned above her on the snow. All I need to do is roll off her and let her get up. But I can't. I'm frozen. I don't know what to do.
'Tyler. Either you need to kiss me within the next ten seconds or I'm burying you in this pile of snow. You choose.'
I choose to kiss her.
My lips meet hers. This time, I don’t back away and apologise. Instead, the kiss deepens as she opens her mouth to me and my tongue meets hers.
Then I remember I’m lying in the street in my underwear.
I break the kiss. ‘Follow me.’
We head inside, stripping off wet clothes and without words, we head up to my bedroom which finally sees some action. Lindsay reveals herself to be as forceful in the bedroom as she is with her arm punches and I learn a few things. I also try a couple of things I’ve seen on the internet which appear to hit the spot, so to speak.
Afterwards, she lies relaxed in my arms, but her hands reach down and fondle two of my most prized possessions.
'Well, look who finally grew a pair. I’d given up on you, you know?'
'It’s difficult being a man. We have to traverse the whole woman minefield. I was scared I might mess things up.'
'Well, thanks for the shag,' she says, making to get up. 'It was okay.'
'What?' I splutter. 'What are you talking about? Where are you going?' My face falls.
She nods towards the clock. Twelve twenty am.
'April Fool,' she giggles. I hit her with my pillow. She punches me in my arm. It fucking hurts.
I make her kiss it better. She insists she may have accidentally hurt other parts of my body. So I let her kiss them better too.
THE END
Pre-order New Balls Please: Ball Games Book Three here: http://getbook.at/NewBallsPlease
Pre-order
It’s Dora and Tim’s turn to continue the Turner family story in New Balls Please, Ball Games Book Three. Releases Tuesday 3 May 2016. Order/Pre-order here: http://getbook.at/NewBallsPlease
Read on for a sneak peek …
Tim
I used to affectionately call my other half Dora the Explorer because her hand was always down my trousers fondling my meat and two veg. I might need to rethink that now. Because she's gone missing, along with a small suitcase and her money and credit cards. What do you do first when your partner is AWOL? Search for a note I guess. Oh, here we go. There's something under the duvet. I bet she's arranged a raunchy weekend away after reading that bloody book she got for Christmas.
Tim. I've gone to Center Parcs for the week to learn how to play tennis. Don't ring me, I won't answer. You and the kids can cook your own fucking Sunday lunch. Yes, I'm a lot better, not that any of you asked. D.
Oh shit. It would seem it’s new balls please for Dora.
***
A few days earlier...
Dora
Discover the New You? What, from behind the clump of tissue held in front of my ever spluttering mouth? Nowhere in this goddamn book by the uber-famous Tatiana Patrick does it say about how to bring the spark back to your marriage during a bout of tonsillitis. I throw the book, attempting to shout fuck it, but I have no voice so its a waste of time. I've been in my cesspit of a bedroom for two days. Fuck, I smell. For the last twenty-four hours I’ve sweated the cold out of me and two discarded pairs of pyjamas lie on the floor at my bedside. Tim is at work. My days have been spent reading the Facebook feed; watching Jessica Jones on Netflix (I want to be that kick-ass, but am I supposed to feel sorry for her that she's being mind controlled by David Tennant? He can mind control me into his bed anytime he likes); and sleeping. The only time I've surfaced is to make the evening meal. Tim's good and would fix his own but he'd never think to see if I want anything, so I may as well get up or starve to death. Personally I wouldn't want a meal that's been made by a woman with the plague but that's a partner for you.
I usually ring the kids on a Thursday night. Well, I say kids - Dylan is twenty-five and Camille twenty-one. They both now live away from home. I see them every Sunday for lunch and then call them each Thursday night. Tim can answer when they ring. They'll wonder what's wrong as I call them eight on the dot every Thursday.
9.25pm - Little fuckers - not one call. Not one. I'm not ringing them despite my voice returning a little.
Saturday. They never called and still haven't. I could be dead. The ignorant brats are supposed to be coming for lunch tomorrow. I'm still bedridden. Well, I could get up because I'm a lot better but then I'd have to do housework and there are some Jessica Jones episodes left to watch. If they turn up they can view my half-dead, unwashed corpse. I grab my kindle and start a search. There must be a book on here about how to be respected.
Bingo. Tatiana's therapist, Tess, from her Reality Show Love is All Around has a book out, How to reclaim Visibility in a world that makes you feel invisible. Tess Emerald will save me.
I one-click and begin to read...
Chapter One - show them a world without you.
'Dora? Dora. I'm off to the local for a couple of hours. Is that alright?' Tim's voice booms up the stairs.
I try to answer but once again the voice has gone.
The door bangs. He hasn't even come up to see if I'm okay before he's left me alone for a couple of hours.
That's it. I'm heeding Tess' advice. They can see a world without me in it. First stop shower, second stop Center Parcs. It's only an hours drive to Sherwood Forest. I've been saving up for Tim and I to have some weekends away. Well, he can do one. Spa, fresh air, someone else cleaning. Sheer bliss. Oh, what’s that on the website here? Tennis lessons with ex-pro Cole Grant. I've always wanted to learn to play tennis. Well, at least every June when Wimbledon is on.
Credit card payment made. A one-bedroom comfort villa is mine for the week.
See ya suckers. The first thing I put in my handbag is my Kindle and charger. I need Tatiana and Tess’ advice this week.
This novella will be released Tuesday 3 May 2016. Pre-order here: http://getbook.at/NewBallsPlease
More by Andie M. Long
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Quickies:
Sometimes you just have ten minutes. Or you're waiting at the bus stop. It could be a small train journey. Maybe your partner is due home. Or friends are on their way. In Andie M. Long's Quickies, you are invited to lose yourself in short stories, poetry and flash fiction. Enjoy a quickie where time is pressured or precious. Some stories are 18+ and contain adult themes.
The Ball Games Novellas
Balls
Snowballs
New Balls Please - out Tues 3 May 2016
The Alpha Series
The Alphabet Game – (ebook permafree on Amazon, iBooks, Nook and Kobo)
>
The Alphabet Wedding (novella)
The Calendar Game
Play it: The Alphabet Game playbook
Underneath
Quickies (novella)
About the Author
Andie M. Long is author of the erotic series The Alphabet Game, The Calendar Game and The Alphabet Wedding, alongside drama/suspense Underneath and short story and poetry collection Quickies.
She lives in Sheffield with her son and long suffering partner.
When not being partner, mother, employee or writer she can usually be found on Facebook or with her head in a book.
She would be VERY grateful if you could leave a review on Amazon if you enjoyed her work.
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Snow Balls (Ball Games #2) Page 8
